You've Been Here Before
by Invisi
Summary: If you get this, I assume I am dead and Voldemort had taken over. I also assume you are one of the last of our side alive. This letter isn't about that. This letter is about fixing the past. I'm sending you back to October 1931. Your mission? To befriend Voldemort and stop any of this from happening. If you fail, the world is doomed. But you cannot afford to think of that now.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Welcome to my new story, You've Been Here Before (or YBHB for short). I've been planning this for a while, and today I thought I'd post it. Not sure why, but I am. Hope you enjoy it :p**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**_

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_"What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?" - _Unknown

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Chapter One

The Written Word

Hermione Granger was in deep, deep trouble.

She was one of the only Muggle-Supporters and Muggle-Borns left alive. The only one of the Golden Trio left in this empty, dying world. And who had made sure of this?

_Lord Voldemort._

She hated him. Hated him with every fibre of her being. He had taken this world, twisted it around and destroyed everything she stood for.

It had been weeks now. The survivors who surrendered to Voldemort had been free to leave. Those who had refused, however, had been left at Hogwarts. For days, the people within the castle had been dragged out screaming, taken into the Forbidden Forest, and never seen again. Now there was only three of them left, and she didn't even know their names. One of them spent their time in the Gryffindor common room, and the other down in the dungeons.

Hermione, of course, lived in the library now. She hadn't eaten, hadn't washed, hadn't left the room for about a month. She was dirty and dying, she knew that. She didn't care. Maybe that was what Voldemort wanted? Had he left her to dye because she simply refused to take care of herself?

No. It was more then that. Maybe he had kept her alive for her brains, her magical skill? Or maybe he just hadn't gotten around to killing her yet.

She pulled another book off the shelf. She had read half the books in this Library by now, and was now just taking them off te shelves at random. No book, spell or curse could get her out of this mess.

She opened the book, and to her surprise, an envelope fluttered out. Curiously, she picked it up, and her breath caught in her throat. Her name was written on the front- in Dumbledore's handwriting.

She wrenched it open and read the letter. It wasn't all that long.

_Hermione, _

_If you get this, I assume I am dead and Voldemort had taken over. I also assume you are one of the last of our side alive. _

_This letter isn't about that. _

_This letter is about fixing the past. _

_I'm sending you back to October 1931. Your mission? To befriend Voldemort and stop any of this from happening. If you fail, the world is doomed. But you cannot afford to think of that now. _

_You must go down to the dungeons and into Snape's storeroom. In there will be three potions: one purple, one green, one scarlet. You must take the purple one first- this will de-age you to five years old, the age Tom Riddle will be at the time I send you back to. Then take the green one. This will activate a slow-release memory charm that will wipe your mind completely when you take the last potion. Finally, the scarlet potion, will send you back to 1931. _

_Your memories, while wiped from your mind, will not be gone. They will still be in your head, kept in a secret vault that you will not be able to access. This vault will open any time in your fifth, sixth or seventh year, and you will retrieve your memories from this lifetime. _

_Now, you must hurry. If I am correct, Voldemort is on his way. _

_Best of luck, Miss Granger, and I bid you farewell. _

_Albus Dumbledore._

Hermione stared at the letter a moment. Then, her fuggy, sleep-deprived brain kicked into gear. she leapt to her feet and ran out of the library, the doors slamming shut behind her.

She reached the storeroom in ten minutes, and sure enough, the three bottles were lain out in order. She crouched, grabbed the purple one, pulled out the stopper and drank.

The potion exploded on her tongue. It tasted like summer fruits, woodland berries and magic. She swallowed it, and felt the room enlargen around her. She looked down, to find that her dirtied clothes were now clean, and not even her own. Her skin was clean, and soft like a five-year-olds. Her tiny hands reached forwards for the next bottle, and she tipped the liquid into her mouth.

This one tasted like everything she had ever tasted in her life. Strawberries, roast dinner, treacle tart, pumpkin juice, polyjuice potion, butterbeer, mushrooms and starvation. Her mind began to cloud up, and she reached for the last one in panic.

_No, no, no! Do not forget what you're doing, Hermione Jean Granger. Do NOT forget. You're doing this for Ron and the Weasleys, you're doing this for Harry... who's Harry?_

She couldn't remember. She pulled the stopper from the final bottle and eyed the potion with distaste.

"You better know what you're doing, Dumbledore," she hissed under her breath, and drank.

She barely had time to taste it, swallowing the potion at once.

And then everything vanished.

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_**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Leave a review to tell me what you think!**_

_**-Invisi**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Wow, three reviews in a day?! That's the record out of all my fan-fics for fastest reviews! Thank you to ANEwrites, Witch-Werewolf-love-twi-loner and Guest for your reviews!**_

_**Well, I hope you enjoy Chapter Two.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Some of the setting, scenes and dialogue taken directly from the Half-Blood Prince.**_

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_"A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world." _- Leo Buscagila

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Chapter Two

The Orphanage

A five-year-old by the name of Hermione Granger trotted behind the tall man with the long, auburn beard. He looked funny, the girl decided. Who would wear such a bright orange suit? _He's crazy, too, she thought, stifling a giggle. _

"Mister, Mister, hey Mister, where are we going?" she called. Her feet hurt in their shiny patent shoes, a size too small. The man turned to her, smiling in amusement.

"Soon, Hermione," he told her. "It's just around this corner, now."

Hermione sped up, trying to keep up with the man, but it was _hard. _He was just so big! She stumbled after him around the corner, onto an even busier London street. The man in the orange suit was quite a few steps ahead of her now, and she was skipping to catch up, her bushy hair (tied in unravelling plaits) bouncing on her shoulders.

When she finally caught up to the man, he was stood by an iron gate that led into a small courtyard, surrounded by high, menacing railings. In te middle of that courtyard sat a grim, square building.

"Mister sir, Mister sir, what is this place?" Hermione chirped, as the two of them entered the courtyard.

"This, Hermione, is your new home."

Hermione looked around the dim courtyard, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "I don't like it," she whined. "Can't I live in a nicer place?"

"This is a nice place, Hermione," the man said with a chuckle. "You'll see."

Hermione stared at him in surprise. Now she knew he must be crazy. This wasn't a nice place at all!

As they approached the building, she began to hear shouts and squeals of laughter. She looked up at the man, unsure of what to think. He didn't say anything as they climbed the steps. The man knocked on the door, which was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon," the man said, smiling warmly. "I have an appointment with a Ms Cole, whom, I believe, is the matron?"

"Uh, yeh, she is," she girl said after a moment, staring at the man in disbelief. "Hang on a mo'. MRS COLE! MRS COLE! SOMEONE 'ERE TO SEE YOU!"

"Yes, yes, Callie, I'm here, no need to shout!" a voice snapped, and a woman appeared beside the girl in the doorway. She had a sharp-featured face creased with stress, and a pleasant look about her. However, when she opened her mouth, Hermione fought desperately not to recoil: the woman's teeth were yellowed and rotten in places, her breath stunk and she must've had about twelve cavities.

"Yes?" she said suspiciously. "What is it?"

"I'm Albus Dumbledore," the man said.

_Dumbledore, huh? _Hermione thought. _What a strange name!_

"I wrote to you about placing a child in your care?"

"Oh, right. So you did. Yes. Well..." she looked around, as if looking for an escape. "You'd better come in then." She opened the door and stood back to let them through. The man took Hermione's hand, pulling her inside. Hermione hung back as the door was closed, clutching her hankie to her nose.

"Come in dear, don't be shy," the woman-with-bad-breath said, then turned to the girl who'd opened the door. "Callie, go into that lounge and see what all the racket is about. Now," she added, turning to the man-with-orange-clothes as the girl scurried away, "Let's go into my office, shall we?"

The three of them went into a small room, and Hermione sat on a chair beside the man-with-orange-clothes, while the woman-with-bad-breath sat opposite them.

"Yes, we have room for her," the woman was saying. "Here, where is that... Oh, there it is!" She pulled out a piece of paper from a draw and grabbed a pen. "If you don't mind answering a few questions for me..."

"Of course we wont," the man said.

"Name?" she asked.

"Hermione Jean Granger," the man replied.

"Aged?"

"Five."

"Birthday?"

"Nineteenth of September!" Hermione squeaked. The woman nodded, jotting it down.

"Now, if we could talk..." she said, casting a glance at the man. He nodded.

"Hermione, why don't you go sit outside?"

Hermione nodded, knowing she had no choice, and slipped off the chair. In the hallway outside was a long bench, and Hermione sat down on it, feeling glum.

"Hello," said a polite voice, and Hermione looked up to see a boy of about her own age. He was tall, with dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin.

"Hello," she whispered, burying her nose in her hankie. The boy sat down on the bench beside her.

"Are you coming to live here?" he asked her. Hermione shook her head.

"They all say I am, but I shan't. It's horrid here! And that woman has really bad breath."

The boy laughed. "Mrs Cole? She's the Matron here. She _does _have bad breath, doesn't she?" The two of them laughed, but the laughter soon died. The boy stuck his hand out at her.

"I'm Tom Riddle," he introduced himself.

"Hermione Granger," she replied, eying his hand warily, and then shaking it. He slid off the bench.

"Well, I'll be seeing you," he said, and left. Hermione waved half-heartedly, still determined that she would not live here.

After all, anywhere was better than here, right?

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**_A/N: Does Tom seem a bit OOC here? I'm putting his friendliness/politeness down to the fact that he's five-years-old. I mean, five-year-olds laugh, don't they?_**

**_The next chapter will be a bit of a time skip, so you'll get to see Hermione and Tom after they've grown up a bit. I'll also have an author's note explaining the OOC-ness. _**

**_I've also added a new cover. The picture of Hermione I drew myself yesterday, and then I edited it slightly._**

**_Well, tell me if you love it, hate it or wanna eat it (though why you'd want to eat it, I do not know.)._**

_**-Invisi**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: In this chapter it is September 1937, Hermione is eleven and Tom is ten. Sorry for any confusion**_

_**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Some scenes, characters, settings and Dialogue taken directly from the Half-Blood Prince.**_

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_"All your quirks and all your problems - even your depressions and your failures - that's what makes you, you." - _Gerard Way

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Chapter Three

Six Years Later

"Come _on, _Tom!" Hermione yelled, laughing.

The two ten-year-olds were walking home from school. Hermione was walking backwards down the street, her tie in her hand, fluttering in the breeze. Her top button was undone, her hair a wild, tangled mess. The lukewarm September sun shone down on it, turning the brown curls ginger. Tom, on the other hand, was smart and tidy, his brown hair sleek and smooth, his suit-like uniform tidy and his tie neatly in place. He rolled his eyes at his friends' antics.

"Hurry up!" Hermione begged, her voice taking on a whine-like tone.

"Why are you in such a hurry, anyway?" Tom asked, not making any effort to walk faster.

"You know why!" Hermione whined, glaring at him. "You do know the date, don't you?"

"Yes, it's the nineteenth of September," Tom replied, his face impassive but a smirk in his eyes. She marched back down the street, slapping his arm.

"Git!" she snapped. "It's my birthday!"

"Oh!" Tom gasped in mock surprise. "How could I have forgotten?"

She slapped his arm again, twice. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she retaliated, mirroring the gesture.

The two school children, laughing and yelling, arrived at the Orphanage that had been their home for the last six years, and, in Tom's case, since birth. Hermione wrenched the gates open and the two of them ran inside, forgetting to close the gates.

"We're ba-ack!" Hermione called, walking into the lounge and dumping her school bag on the side of the sofa.

"Great," Billy Stubbs drawled sarcastically from his seat on the other side of the room. He then raised his hands to his mouth and yelled, "OI! YOU LOT! THE FREAKS ARE HOME!"

There was a loud scrambling and scraping noise, and the sound of several doors slamming. Hermione rolled her eyes at Tom, who scowled.

"We wont hurt you, you know," she said, bouncing onto the sofa.

"Yet," Tom added under his breath in a menacing manner, sitting down beside her. Suddenly, all three of them heard a loud rapping at the door, and the sound of the current maid, Martha, opening it.

"Good afternoon," said an unfamiliar voice. "I have an appointment with a Mrs Cole, who, I believe, is the Matron here?"

That sentence was all it took for the three occupants of the room to exchange a glance and rush over to the door, all rivalries forgotten as they peered out into the hallway. They saw Mrs Cole rushing past the them, and shoving Martha out of the way of the door.

"Oh, yes. Well- well, then- you'd better come into my room," Mrs Cole's voice came floating down the hall to them. They saw a man walk in, wearing a magenta suit. She heard Billy snort, in disbelief or laughter, she couldn't be sure.

"What do you think he's here for, eh?" he asked. Hermione shrugged.

"I dunno."

"It's don't know, Hermione," Tom corrected.

"Yeah, yeah," Hermione said in an offhand tone, flapping her hand in his face. "Maybe he's here to adopt someone?"

"Aw, are you getting all hopeful, 'Mione?" Billy sneered. "As if he'd ever choose you. Or Tom for that matter. You're both freaks."

"Well, so is he!" Hermione exclaimed hotly. The man and Mrs Cole were right outside the room now, and that was when Hermione recognised the man. The memory was hazy, half-forgotten, but it was enough. She jumped out of the doorframe, causing Tom and Billy to stumble and fall. She stood out in the hallway behind the two adults, who hadn't noticed her arrival.

"Mister sir?" she called. "Oi, Mister sir!"

The man turned around and beamed at her. "Hello, Hermione," he greeted cheerfully.

"What're you doing here, Mister sir?" she asked. Then she beamed at him. "Are you taking me away, eh, Mister sir, are you?"

"Hermione!" Mrs Cole snapped. "Don't be so rude!"

"No, it's quite alright," the man replied cheerfully, and the two went into the office. Hermione scowled at the closed door.

"He didn't even give me a proper bloody answer!" she muttered under her breath as Tom and Billy came scampering out of the room.

"How do you know him, eh?" Billy asked, poking her in the ribs. "How do you know him, you little midgit?"

"He was the one who brought me here!" she proclaimed. "And now he's come to take me away again!"

"Yeah, right," Billy scoffed. "If he's come to take you away, and I'm not saying he has, because I don't believe that nonsense one bit, he'll probably take you someplace worse. Like Brakesford. You know what Brakesford is? It's a boarding school, full of gangs and bullies. They have fires every week, and fights every night. Once, one Halloween night, a girl was slaughtered. And that's not even the worst part."

"What is the worst part?" Hermione asked, eyes wide in terror.

"They starve the kids there, you see. And this one kid, he was so hungry, he ate her. Ate the dead girl right up. By the time they found him, only her left arm and a chewed-on skeleton remained of her."

Hermione's eyes looked so wide, any more surprises and they'd pop out of her head. She gasped, but Tom, behind her, scoffed.

"That's a load of old rubbish," he sneered. "As if, Billy Stubbs."

"I swear!" Billy cried. "I swear on my rabbit's life! Honest I do!"

Tom narrowed his eyes. "We'll see about that."

At that moment, there was a loud bang and the office door opened. Mrs Cole led the man out into the hall.

"I'll take you to them- oh. There they are. Tom! Hermione! Mr Dumbleton- sorry, Bumberdore, wants to speak to you."

Hermione looked up at the man, and nudged Tom in the ribs, a grin lighting up her features. "I told you, see?" she hissed. "I told you!"

The man, Bumberdore, cleared his throat. "If we could go somewhere private-?"

"Of course," Tom agreed. "I'll take you to my room."

The three of them set off and found themselves in Tom's room in no time. Tom shut the door and Bumberdore smiled at him. Bumberdore pulled up a hard wooden chair from the corner, while Tom sat at the top of his bed and Hermione sat cross-legged at the end, a notepad on her lap, pencil in hand. Whenever she and Tom had important conversations she would write them down in the notepad, and this conversation was as important as any other- even more so she reckoned.

"I am Professor Dumbledore," the man said, and Hermione could've slapped herself, scratching out 'Bumberdore' and replacing it with 'Dumbledore'.

"Professor?" Tom asked warily. "Is that like Doctor? What are you doing here? Did _she_ get you to have a look at us?"

"No, no," Dumbledore replied, smiling.

"I don't believe you. She wants us looked at, doesn't she?" Tom snarled. Then, with extra force, he commanded, "Tell the truth!"

Hermione gasped, feeling the power behind his words. "Tom!" she hissed. "We said we were trying to stop doing that!"

"No, no, it is alright, Hermione," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Who are you?" Tom asked.

"I have told you," Dumbledore answered. "My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school- your new school, if you would like to accept."

Tom, at these words, jumped up and began backing away, looking confused, scared and angry. Hermione winced, knowing this wasn't good.

"You can't kid me!" he cried. "The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor', yes, of course- well, I'm not going, see? Bad-breath's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"

"I'm not from the asylum," Dumbledore said patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you-"

"-I'd like to see them try-"

"-Sit down, Tom!-"

"-Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, as if neither of them had spoken. "Is a school for people with special abilities-"

"I'm not mad!" Tom interrupted.

"I know you're not, Tom, please _do _calm down!" Hermione cried.

"Hogwarts is not a school for mad people," Dumbledore added pleasantly. "It is a school of magic."

Silence settled on the room. Tom seemed to be frozen in shock, but Hermione found herself smiling. For some reason, this felt familiar, though she could not think for the life of her why.

"Magic?" Tom whispered, finally finding his voice.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's... it's magic, what we can do?" Hermione asked.

"What is it that you can do, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked, turning to her.

"All sorts," Hermione breathed. "I can- I can make things move without touching them. Books come flying to me from the shelves when I want them. My pencil sometimes writes of its own accord, and once I wished that no-one could see me and no-one did."

At this point, Tom moved from the wall, coming back to sit on the bed.

"I knew I was different," he breathed. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew I was something."

"Well, you are quite right," Dumbledore said, smiling. "You are a wizard. And Hermione, you are a witch."

"Are you a wizard?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," Tom commanded. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts-"

"Of course I am!"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Then you will adress me as 'Professor' or 'Sir'."

Hermione felt her spirits dampen slightly. She was no longer able to call him 'Mr Sir'. Then she looked up, beaming, quickly scribbling sown Tom's apology.

Dumbledore pulled a stick out of his suit pocket, pointed it at Tom's wardrobe, which burst into flames. Tom and Hermione cried out at the same time: all of Tom's possessions were in there, along with their trophy box.

Then, suddenly, the flames died, leaving the wardrobe undamaged. Hermione clapped her hands, eyes bright with excitement. Tom, however, pointed at the wand.

"Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," Dumbledore replied, then pointed to the wardrobe. "I think there is something trying to get out. Open it."

Tom went over to his wardrobe and opened it. The small cardboard box where the two of them kept their trophies fell onto the floor at Tom's feet. Tom picked the box up.

"Is that something you ought not have?" Dumbledore asked sternly. Tom looked sullen, nodding.

"Yes, I suppose so, sir."

"Open it," Dumbledore said again, and Tom opened it to reveal all their trophies: a yo-yo, a silver thimble and a mouth-organ among them.

"You will return these items to their rightful owners- both of you," Dumbledore told them, turning his stern gaze on Hermione, who looked down at her notepad, cheeks blushing pink. "Be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

"Yes sir," they chorused.

"At Hogwarts, we teach you not only to..." Dumbledore continued, going on in a long drawl about Hogwarts and where they can get their school stuff. Hermione jotted it all down, not really listening. Finally, he stood and made for the door.

"Goodbye Tom, Hermione. I shall see you at Hogwarts," he told them, then left the room.

Hermione turned to look at Tom, who had a look of excitement and disbelief on his face.

"Did you get all that?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"Where do you want to start?"

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_**A/N: Here I will explain the difference in personality Tom and Hermione have now that they are friends.**_

****Hermione: Hermione was raised by her parents being told to do good in school, and was taught how to behave. Growing up in an orphanage, she's been allowed to run a little wild, resulting in her being untidy, scatter-brained and yet manages to write pages when the need takes her. She, like Tom, also discovered her powers early, and has managed to tame them slightly earlier. This results in the two of them being despised at the orphanage, called 'Freaks'. In return, they bully the children.

Tom: Tom, with a friend, is now slightly more open. He laughs, smiles and jokes around, but he is politer, more calm then Hermione. He is also slightly nicer now, with Hermione scolding him for being mean. He also has very good teeth, thanks to Hermione's nagging.

_**Loved it? Hated it? Leave. A. Review.**_

_**-Invisi**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Just to let you know, instead of putting my review replies up here, you can find all review replies on my profile, above all the quotes. **_

_**Thanks for all your reviews, by the way! They keep me writing!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor the quotes at the top of each chapter. The only things I own are the plotline and a few OC's.**_

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_"You are remembered for the rules you break." _- Douglas MacAurthur

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Chapter Four

Freakshow

"TEA TIME!" came a yell, and Hermione's head snapped up. She and Tom were sat together on the bed, heads bent over Hermione's notepad, going over everything they'd heard earlier that afternoon. She moved from her position, stretching her cramped limbs and yawning.

"Come on, Tom, tea-time," she said needlessly. To nodded, standing up, and placed the notebook under his pillow.

"Right," he said, his voice sounding slightly hollow. "Right."

The two of them left the room and ambled down the stairs, Hermione clomping loudly in her hated patent shoes. Tom shot jher a glare but she failed to notice, instead biting on her lip and looking pre-occupied.

"So?" Billy sneered as they slid into their seats. "How'd it go? He _is _sending you to Brakesford, isn't he? I just knew it!"

"Actually, no," Hermione told him snidely, spearing a carrot into her mouth. "He is sending us to school, though. Somewhere far, far away from here."

"I'll bet," Billy scoffed.

"It's true," Hermione told him earnestly. "We're going to a special boarding school, you see, way up north. And every day, you get proper meals, none of this rubbish. I heard that royalty even studies there!"

"You're lying, Granger," Eric Whalley sneered. "As if! Why'd they invite you two when they could have any of us?"

"Oh, they wouldn't take you," Hermione retorted, "They only take the best, you see."

The next thing she knew, she was pelted with mashed parsnips. She scooped them out of her eyes with the tips of her fingers, staring at Billy (who had thrown the parsnips) with a look of rage and indignation. Then, without another word, she stood, picked up her plate, walked around the table and dumped her food over Billy's head. Then, without looking back, she stalked out of the kitchen.

She didn't stop walking until she reached her own room, where she sat on her bed and groaned. Her fingers and face were still covered in parsnips, but she didn't particularly care.

_Oh, Lord, what have I done?_

She would be in for it now: wasting food was a big no-no. If it was on your plate you ate it or someone else did. You did not waste anything at the orphanage, from money to clothes to paper to food. Nearly everything Hermione owned was second hand- her uniform, her Sunday best, her furniture, her schoolbooks. It was one of the key factors in every orphans life. You didn't waste anything.

She heard a soft rapping at the door, and pulled her head up, out of her hands. "Who is it?" she called warily.

"It's me," came the reply.

With a sigh, Hermione walked over to the door and opened it, letting Tom into her room. Tom sat down on the bed, and Hermione closed the door, leaning against it.

"You've, uh, got parsnips in your hair," Tom told her, but she silenced him with a glare. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Tom spoke.

"I think you were really great."

She looked up. "Excuse me?"

"You know...?" Tom told her. "You dumping your food on Billy's Stubbs hateful head. That was brilliant! Inspired!"

"I'm going to get into so much trouble for it, though!" Hermione cried.

"Since when did you care about getting into trouble?" Tom said with a snort. She glared at him.

"It's okay to break the rules. Getting caught, being reckless- since when was that a good thing?"

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream sounded from somewhere above their heads. Tom and Hermione exchanged a glance and ran out of the room, to a door ajar two rooms along. Here, they ran up the stairs, closely followed by Billy and the other orphans. Upon arriving in the attic, they found Amy Benson, trembling, her eyes wide with fear, facing away from them.

"What is it?" Billy demanded. "Riddle, Granger, what did you do?"

"We didn't do anything," Tom told him, a look of confusion on his face.

"Up there," Amy whispered, raising a shaking arm and pointing above their heads. Hermione's eyes followed Amy's direction, an her eyes widened ever so slightly; she gave an audible gasp.

There, hanging from the rafters, dead as a doornail, was Billy Stubb's rabbit.

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_**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Yes, my version of Hermione is a little more open to breaking the rules, but also doesn't like to get caught. **_

_**Love it? Hate it? Want to eat some chocolate right now (funnily enough, I do...)? Review!**_

_**-Invisi**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: As always, you can find all the review replies on my profile! Thanks again for the number of reviews, it feels great to have a well-appreciated story! **_

_**Disclaimer: I own neither the books, characters, scenes, places or quotes at the top of the chapters. Some of the scenes may be taken directly from the actual books. The only things I own are the OC's and the plot.**_

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_"Nobody ever made the history books by playing by the rules." _- ?

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Chapter Five

Eleven Months Later

"Wow, look at that! Oh, look, Tom, look at that! What the-? Is that a-? It is! Oh look, Tom, look!" Hermione cried, her head whipping back and forth as the two of them came out of Gringotts, each carrying small bags full of money from the Hogwarts trust fund.

"Hermione, calm down," Tom scolded between gritted teeth. "You'll draw attention to us!"

"Fine," Hermione said with a sigh, slowing down to walk at a normal pace. Her head, however, still whipped back and fourth, and she let out gasps of amazement at what she saw. The building were built at odd angles, looking as if they would fall at any moment. Hermione assumed it was only magic holding them up. In the windows below the colourful shop signs were an array of unusual objects: telescopes, quills, dresses, feathers, cauldrons, eyeballs and so much more.

"Okay," Tom said, pulling out the list of school supplies they'd received. "Robes. Quills. Parchment. Bag to carry it all around in. School books. Cauldrons and potion sets. Wand. We'll get our wands last, then we wont be carrying them around. Right, Hermione? Hermione? Hey, where'd you go?"

Hermione had stopped listening, instead rushing over to a sparkly window that contained an array of broomsticks. She felt someone tap her from behind, and whirled around to see Tom, glaring at her.

"Hermione? We have shopping to do."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Hermione sighed, stepping away from the window. At that moment, the strangest thing happened, causing her breath to hitch in her throat.

A scene- almost like a memory but not quite clear enough- had entered her mind. A memory of a storm, screaming and shouting, and dark shapes wandering across the rain-lashed ground. And there, in the middle of it all, a boy falling, lifeless, his broken broom in splinters around him.

Then it seemed the scene had been snatched away, and she shook her head, unsure of what had just happened. She chose to ignore it and trotted after Tom as they entered a shop with a purple-and-gold painted sign reading _Secondhand Robe Shop. _Inside it was musty, with an unpleasant smell of damp and tobacco soaked into the walls. The air seemed to shimmer with dust, making Hermione sneeze. Tom shot her an irritable glare.

"Whaddaya want?" asked a gruff voice, and Hermione peered through the dust and fog to see a rugged-looking man with a grey beard and balding head sitting behind a counter, rocking back on his chair and smoking a pipe.

"We'd like four pairs of robes, please," Tom told him politely.

"Hogwarts robes?" the man snarled, and Hermione nodded timidly. The man heaved himself from the chair with a great effort, shambling down the racks of robes, leaving a trail of dust and smoke in his way. Hermione coughed harder, covering her mouth and nose in her old hankie, though she was careful not to let Tom see her. He'd tried so hard to make her stop using the rag to hide behind, and had successfully managed it when they were nine- or so he thought.

"Alrigh'. Here ya go," the man told them, throwing four pairs of robes at them. Hermione caught them and passed two to Tom- the ones that she were left with seemed either two sizes too small or six sizes too big. Nevertheless, Tom payed the man and the two of them shoved the robes into brown paper bags, glad to be out in the fresh air again.

Next they went to _Scribbulus Writing Implements, _and brought a stack of paper and a set of quills between them. They also bought a standard ink set, and while they were in the Ink section, Hermione's eyes landed on something she fancied.

"Oh, Tom, look! Colour-change ink! Can we buy some, can we?" she cried, picking up a bottle and shoving it in his face. He took it from her and looked at the price tag, swearing under his breath.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! No way!"

Grudgingly, Hermione put it back, resisting the urge to just pocket a bottle. Somehow she figured there would be some security mesures on the supplies, and made a mental note to look into it.

After that they went to _Slug and Jiggers Apothecary _as well as _Potage's Cauldron Shop. _In there were many marvels for Hermione to gawp at, and she figured that Tom was getting very annoyed at her as they came out of _Magical Menagerie. _

"Is that everything?" Hermione asked Tom, dizzy with excitement. He shook his head.

"Not quite yet, we still need our books and wands. C'mon, this way..."

She followed him past a nice-looking bookshop and into a shop named _The Junk Shop, _which stood beside _Second Hand Robes. _Inside, it was much nicer than the robe shop, smelling of a library- old books and polished wood. Inside were many funny objects, but in one corner they discovered several shelves of books. There were at least two copies of the books they needed for school there, tattered, torn, ripped and stained. Hermione liked second-hand books, so this didn't bother her, but Tom looked disdainful at buying things second-hand.

There were also some other books that Tom was more than happy to spend the last of their money on. These included many spellbooks (some of them looking quite disturbing to Hermione) and a book entitled _The Pureblood Directory. _They handed the books over to the old woman at the counter, who didn't so much as glance at the covers, shoving them all into a paper bag and sending the two eleven-year-olds on their way. The two of them made their way up the street, and entered the wand shop.

The shop was empty apart from a middle-aged man who appeared to be in his thirties or forties. He jumped up as they came in, bustling around and handing them wands. They tried and tried to do something with the wands, but nothing happened apart from Hermione breaking an empty fishbowl on the counter.

Finally, Hermione was handed a wand that just felt... right. She waved it, and golden sparks shot out of the tip.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" the man cried, clasping his hands in delight. "I finished that one only the other day... Ten and three-quater inches, vine with a dragon heartstring core. Nine galleons, my dear."

She handed him the money, leaving only enough money for Tom to buy his wand.

Finally, after ten more minutes, Tom found his wand- thirteen and a half inches, yew with a phoenix-feather core, according to the wand man. Tom payed and the two of them left the store, heading back up towards the pub that would take them out into muggle London.

Hermione felt sad to be going. She liked this place- more importantly, it felt _homely_. As if she'd been here before.

She suddenly stopped outside a cafe, her face lighting up. "Look, Tom!" she cried, pointing. "Ice cream!"

Tom sighed, dropping back to stand beside her in front of the ice cream parlor. "We don't have any money left, Hermione. Now come on, let's go."

"Who said anything about money?" Hermione asked, a cold glimmer in her eye. He gave her an uncertain look.

"You sure?"

"Of course!" she cried. "Go wait by the bar for me. I'll be right back."

Then, without another word, she turned and marched inside.

There was quite a crowd in here, which made Hermione glad- all the better for her. There was a large glass counter with dozens of flavours behind it, which was no good for her. There was also an open display of ice-cream tubs to be taken home, and Hermione decided to target this. She made her way through the crowd towards it, glanced around and grabbed a tub, pulling it into her shopping bag. She then waited two minutes and did the same thing again, turning and walking from the shop.

All of a sudden a loud noise went off, like a muggle shop alarm. Dropping all caution Hermione ran as fast s she could, pushing her way through the crowd, a shop assistant on her tail.

"Come on!" yelled a voice, and she looked up to see Tom, grabbing her hand. He pulled her through the people and round the corner, into an off-street and down an alleyway. They stood there for two minutes, gasping for breath. When they were sure that they were no longer being followed, they ventured out into the street, seeing a sign on the wall opposite them.

"Knockturn Alley," Tom read. He glanced around. "Let's come back here next time, I want a look around. Come on- we have to get going."

"Right," Hermione agreed, following him around the corner and through the bar, out into muggle London. Only once they emerged onto the crowded pavement did she pass him a tub of strawberry ice cream, and pulled a tub of vanilla out for her. Tom shook his head at her.

"Hermione, you fool! You almost got caught! Do you know what kind of trouble we would've been in?"

"Yes, actually," she retorted sharply. "It's not as if I had any choice, is it? We're orphans, Tom. We never get anything. If you want something, something not necessary, you have to be prepared to break rules to get what you want. You know that as well as I."

"You wont carry on stealing when we get to school, will you?" Tom asked, prising open the lid of his ice cream. "I don't want us to get thrown out."

"Of course I wont," she replied, dipping her finger into her own ice cream and scooping a curl up. "And it's not stealing, nor is it thievery. It is light-fingeredness."

She licked the ice cream off her finger, and savoured the first bite of the food on her tongue. If she hadn't known better, she would've said it tasted like heaven.

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_**A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it! Originally I was going to have a spell burn Hermione's fingers, but then I decided to have an alarm instead. Was this chapter believable? I tried to make Hermione a little curious, because, as an orphan, she's never seen anything like this before. Tom, however, is being his usual calm, concentrated self.**_

_**Loved it? Hated it? Review!**_

_**-Invisi**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Thanks to all of you for your reviews! Review Replies can be found on my profile! **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I'm only borrowing it for the time being. I also don't own any quotes you find, or things that are familiar to you!**_

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_"Fuck you perfectionism. Without you, I am brilliant." _- Coco J. Ginger

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Chapter Six

Standing Out to Fit In

For the next few days after that, Tom and Hermione spent most of their time in Tom's room, going over their new books. Both of them had finished their schoolbooks, and Hermione had even tried a few spells, which had worked brilliantly. After that they'd moved onto their extra books, though Hermione refused to touch the ones that looked dangerous or dark. Instead she read a few advanced spellbooks, shocked at how much magic could do.

Finally, by the time August 31st came round, only one book was left untouched- _The Pureblood Directory. _

Hermione lay on Tom's bed, peering over the edge as Tom sat on the floor, the book open on the first page in his lap.

"_Of all those of magical blood, there are several families who are the purest of them all- the sacred twenty-eight. These families are nobel and demand upmost respect from all those lower in station, and therefore in life. Pure magical Blood gives these families advanced magic power than most half-bloods and mudbloods._

_However, some of these families refuse to acknowledge this, and are dubbed as blood-traitors. However, the purest families are all listed here, if you are willing to read on. _

_In this book you shall discover all there is to know of the sacred twenty-eight. _

_- Author, C.N_," Hermione read aloud, frowning.

"Huh, I wonder..." Tom said, flipping forwards to the list of the families. "Nope. No Riddles or Grangers on here." He sighed.

"Does it even matter?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yeah! Look, it states that they have more magical ability and command the upmost respect. If only we had that..." Tom sighed wistfully, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Prat. Just turn the page, already! A chapter each?"

They spent the rest of the afternoon pouring over the book, reading about the many pureblood customs and families. Hermione had to admit, the book was highly interesting, and Tom seemed to think so too, as he looked disappointed when they found the last page blank.

"If you're so interested in these pure-blood people, why not pretend to be one when we get to school?" Hermione asked, rolling onto her back.

"You what?" Tom asked her, his head snapping up from the draw where he was storing his books.

"Well, yeah. It's all about how you present yourself, isn't it? If we tidy up a bit- though you're super tidy already- and put on a sort of... I dunno..."

"Don't know," Tom corrected instinctively.

"Arrogant demeanor," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "Then it shouldn't be so hard to gain respect. We should also try to be top of the class in everything as well."

"Right," Tom agreed. "You could be onto something, 'Mione."

She grinned. "I try," she offered with a shrug.

"TEA TIME!" came a yell, and the two of them made their way downstairs, into the dining room. They took their usual seats at the long, wooden table, plates of food already there. They were the last to arrive, so as they sat down, everyone else started eating.

"Back to school in week, hey?" Dennis Bishop commented, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah," Eric Whalley agreed. "But the freaks wont be there, will they? They're getting shipped somewhere up north for the year."

"While you'll be left behind in this dump," Hermione retorted, looking at the tiny slither of pork she'd been given in contempt. Even Tom had more meat than her. She sighed, scooping up a roast potato. Even the staff hated her here.

"At least we wont have to put up with the likes of you," Billy countered, wiping gravy from his lips with the back of his hand.

"Likewise, Billy Stubbs, likewise," Hermione said airily, eating a carrot.

"Please don't argue!" Emily Fisher cried. "I cannot stand it! The constant jabbing- can't we just have a meal in peace?"

"We will do," Billy said. "Tomorrow, when they've gone... Then this place will be much more pleasant."

"You'd better watch it, Billy," Tom said, his voice dangerous.

"What are you going to do?" Billy countered. "Please, I'm taller than you, Riddle!"

Tom didn't say anything, instead chewing on a piece of pork and glaring at Billy from across the table. Hermione had to kick him hard under the table to stop him doing something to the older boy.

"Leave it," she hissed into his ear. "He's not worth it."

They finished the meal in silence and Hermione returned to her room, exhausted. Her eyes rested for a moment on her trunk, neatly packed. Her robes- which she decided she _wouldn't_ wear- were folded neatly at the bottom, her neat school pinafore on top. Her books were stacked beside her clothes, and her wand was in its small wooden box beside them. She also had her bag, hat, share of parchment and two quills inside. She sighed, shutting the lid and locking it, before collapsing into bed, falling asleep at once.

When Hermione woke the next morning, it was early- six o'clock. However, she and Tom needed to get to the station by ten, so the earlier the better. She got up and brushed her teeth, splashing water on her face to clean it. She then went to the chair, where her clothes were lain out neatly- her school blouse and skirt from her Sunday best. She also put on a pair of tights and her ugly patent shoes, simply because she didn't have much else.

She then set about to do something about her hair. Like Tom had said, first impressions were everything, and she wanted to look noticeable, not her plain self with untamable hair and too-big teeth. She snuck into Dorothy Gardener's room and borrowed the older girl's hair straighteners that her loaded best friend at school had brought her. As long as Hermione had been at the orphanage she had envied the older girl, with all her fancy gear that friend's parents had brought her. She didn't have any friends beside Tom, and he didn't have any parents to spoil her.

When she was done her hair was only curly, rather than bushy. She went back to her own room and brushed it some more, before looking in the mirror and giving a satisfied nod. By now it was seven o'clock, and she went to Tom's door, knocking gently.

The door creaked open a fraction and Tom's eye stared at her, then he pulled it open wide. He, too, was wearing his old school uniform, though he refused to wear his blazer and tie. Hermione couldn't fault him.

"You look different," he told her.

"Yeah, I did something with my hair," she replied.

"I'd noticed," he said dryly.

Hermione went back to her own room to grab her stuff and the two of them dragged it down the stairs to the entrance hall, waiting for Martha to appear. It was ten minutes before the maid did, and the three of them set off for the station.

It was slow going, what with their luggage, but they reached the station by nine. Martha only bade them a quick goodbye as she turned and marched away, not wanting to stay in the freaks' company any more than the children.

The two of them went through the station until they found themselves at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. It was rather busy for so early in the morning, and it wasn't long until Hermione spotted a boy around their age, with white-blonde hair wearing a rather fancy-looking suit. She marched over to him, remembering at the last minute her and Tom's plan to command respect, and straightened up at once.

"Excuse me," she asked politely in an offhand manner, "Would you happen to know how to get onto platform nine and three-quarters?"

"Watch and learn," was all he replied. He started to run at the barrier, and passed right through it. Hermione wandered back to Tom, and the two of them walked through the barrier together. The boy with the white hair was stood there, waiting for them with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"I'm Abraxas Malfoy, by the way," he told them. He then frowned at them. "I'm not supposed to talk to mudbloods. I'd best be off." He turned abruptly and walked away. Hermione glowered at his retreating back.

"I'm insulted!" she huffed to Tom, who laughed.

"Come on," he said, and led her to the train. It was a steam train, painted bright red. The sides were lined with windows, and at the end of every carriage there was a door. Tom and Hermione made their way to the one second from the front and boarded. All the cabins were empty and so they chose one at random, storing their luggage in the overhead racks. Hermione sat opposite Tom, but closer to the window so she could look outside.

During the next hour the station filled up, as wizards and their children entered, boarded and left. At half ten, when the train finally left, Hermione was already half-asleep. She looked up, and nobody seemed to want to sit with them. Contented, she curled her legs up under her and rested her head on the window, drifting into a sleep.

She woke some hours later, feeling cramped. She swung her legs out onto the floor and looked up at Tom, who had changed into his robes. Unlike hers, they actually fit him quite well, and were pristine apart from a small red stain at the neck, that might have been wine or blood, Hermione couldn't tell.

"We'll be there in ten minutes," he told her. "You'd best get changed."

"No way I'm wearing my robes!" Hermione spat. "They're either too big or too small. And they stink."

"I though we were making a good impression?" Tom asked her sharply. Hermione shrugged.

"I am making an impression. And I'm doing it my way."

At that moment the train screeched to a halt and students began to file out the carriage. None of them seemed to be carrying their bags, so Tom and Hermione left theirs as well. They emerged onto the platform and looked around, wondering where to go. A woman with upswept blonde hair in a knot at the back of her head and a frown on her face was stood in the middle of the crowd, yelling, "FIRST YEARS! FIRST YEARS, TO ME!"

The two of them made their way over to the woman and stood there with the other first-years as the station emptied. When she seemed assured that everyone was there, she led them towards a set of boats, all bobbing in a lake.

"FOUR TO A BOAT!" she bellowed. "NO MESSING AROUND! QUICKLY NOW!"

The woman seemed to have no other volume other than the one she spoke at now. Hermione and Tom found themselves in a boat with a brown-haired gril with glasses and the boy with the blonde hair who had bee so rude to them earlier. Upon seeing him, Hermione turned her nose up and refused to talk until they got to the school.

Entering the school, Hermione felt that strange feeling overcome her again: seeing that vision-that-wasn't-quite-a-memory. The entrance hall was crowded with students in fancy robes and dresses, and Hermione herself was stood beside a boy with broad shoulders and strong arms. She smiled at him, but not before casting a glance at two boys on the other side of the room, one with black hair, the other with ginger.

Then the sensation faded and Hermione shook her head to clear it. She'd tuned out of the deputy headmaster's speech, and then the first-years were marhed into a hall and stood in a line before a stool, on which sat a hat. A gap at the brim of the hat opened wide, like a mouth, and then the weirdest thing happened. The hat began to sing.

_"Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin_

_Which house will you find yourself in?_

_Are you brave, cunning, clever or loyal?_

_Can you survive the Hogwarts term-toil?_

_If you think you can then try me on!_

_That is the end of my song!"_

Hermione exchanged a glance with Tom. The best thing that could be said about the hat's song was that it was short.

Names began to get called and the names of houses were called out. Hermione had read _Hogwarts: A History, _but she wasn't sure which house she wanted to be in. Maybe Ravenclaw, as she was rather clever.

"Granger, Hermione," her name was called out. Steadying herself, Hermione took a deep breath, stood up tall, held her nose in the air and marched out towards the hat. Whispers began to run through the room.

"She's not wearing uniform!"

"Who does she think she is?"

"Who is she?"

Hermione ignored them and sat down, placing the hat on her head. It covered her face completely, and she heard its voice whisper in her ear.

_"Why, my dear, a case such_ _as yourself I have yet to see! And yet, you have no clue how extraordinary you are! Yes, you are still very Gryffindor, but I doubt that this is the best place to put you in this time. Ravenclaw could be an option, as you are very smart, Miss Granger, but he hasn't changed all that much. His placement will still be the same... and you have just the right amount of qualities. Yes, I think it'd better be..._

__SLYTHERIN!" the hat roared, and Hermione stood up, placing the hat back on the chair and marching over to the table that was cheering the loudest. As she sat down a tie materialized around her neck, and she pulled at it to loosen it a bit. She sat and politely watched the rest of the sorting, her heart hammering s Tom was called up. But no sooner then the hat touched his head did it yell,

"SLYTHERIN!"

Hermione clapped as Tom stalked over and sat down beside her.

"Well done," she told him with a grin.

"Well done to you, too," Tom replied, a glint in his eye. Hermione smiled.

"I think I made an impression, didn't I?" she asked him. He nodded.

"They're not going to forget you for a long, long time, Hermione."

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_**A/N: Long chapter! Took me almost an hour and a half to write this, I kept on getting distracted!**_

_**Love it? Hate it? Review!**_

_**-Invisi**_


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